


Azkaban

by allstoriesintheend



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Teddy Lupin, Auror Training, Aurors, Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstoriesintheend/pseuds/allstoriesintheend
Summary: 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭, 𝐀𝐳𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝.
Kudos: 3





	Azkaban

The chill of the air encased between cold walls bit down deep into the skin of Teddy’s exposed hands. There was a quiet curse muttered under shaking breath about how he should have grabbed his gloves that morning on the way out of the home he shared with his grandmother. The likelihood of him remembering at all however was a slim chance, and he knew that well – he had spent the morning skirting around Andromeda and trying to avoid the dreadful feeling that had taken over him while the hour drew close that he would be Flooing to the Ministry, and going for the first day of his new part of Auror training. The day he had been dreading ever since he had been taken on at the Ministry fresh out of Hogwarts, over a year ago.

  
  
𝐀𝐙𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍.

  
  
He understood why Andromeda had avoided him that morning. He knew exactly who he might see locked in the cells of the prison, and the thoughts unnerved him entirely. Still – he had bottled the feelings up and forced them down, refusing to let anyone see behind the perfectly formed mask he had tried to perfect.  
  
𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 breath came as careful – unnaturally so – steps led the young Lupin along with the few other trainee Aurors along the dim corridor. Teddy’s hands dove deep into his pockets, his shoulder clashing against that belonging to the young Auror next to him. A murmured apology was all he had to offer, the words catching on baited breath in a way that let the other know how anxious Teddy had seemed to become after spending barely ten minutes inside Azkaban.  
  
“Most of the 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 here are the remaining 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 that were captured after the War . . .”  
  
Teddy could barely focus on listening to the Aurors that were leading the small collection of students, just like Teddy, around the freezing corridors. A faint light leaked in through the small windows that were sporadically embedded into the walls that held Azkaban high, combined with the glow of the torches that hung from the stone ceiling. The cold bit down upon the few flashes of exposed skin Teddy still had left, nipping along his jaw and down his neck until the collar of his muggle leather jacket hid his skin. With how unfocused he had become just from the thoughts of being within the prison’s walls, the hair that he often wore blue had begun to shift in the dim light, leaving him with mousy brown roots infiltrating the colourful locks.  
  
“𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 – Rabastan and Rodolphus . . .”  
  
A sharp intake of breath came as an amber-eyed gaze settled itself upon the adjoining cells of the brothers, carrying a name that Teddy knew all too well. The name Lestrange had haunted the teenager since his grandmother had explained exactly what had happened to his parents when they had left him in her care and gone to participate in the battle of Hogwarts, one after the other. His mother, 𝑴𝑼𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 by her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
He hadn’t been aware that his teeth had sunk into his bottom lip until the metallic taste of blood infiltrated his mouth. The combination of the taste of blood and the swirling downward spiral of thoughts of how his mother had died at the hands of Bellaxtrix Lestrange had his breath coming in sharp, quick inhales that he couldn’t control. The anxiety that had been eating away at him since he had risen that morning was beginning to grow at an alarming rate. The faint light that gave an easier view into both cells uncovered two very similar-looking figures that the Metamorphmagus could hardly look upon for long. Barely a glance was given from amber-coloured eyes before Teddy was following along after the others, trying in vain to block out any and all thought he had of his pink-haired mother losing her life in the very halls of Hogwarts that he had spent seven years growing up and learning in.  
  
Not often did Edward Lupin dwell upon his parents deaths. He understood their sacrifice, never passing blame onto them for leaving him behind, without a memory to hold on to of either of them. He was content in the knowledge that what they had done, how they had given up their lives, had been so that the Wizarding World would be a better place for those who would survive the battle, and those, like him, who would come to join it. However, being inside the wizarding prison was beginning to open up a trail of thoughts that Teddy had spent his entire life skirting around and choosing to ignore – the 𝒉𝒐𝒘 of their deaths. Andromeda had told him vaguely. Teddy knew it was just as difficult for her to impart the knowledge upon to him as it was for him to listen. Even she, however, couldn’t tell him who had died first – for nobody who survived the battle knew. All they could tell him was what had happened. His mother, dying at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. His father, no longer in prime fighting condition, murdered by —

  
“𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐕 . . .”  
  
The name hung in the air. Every effort that Teddy had been making to try and remain calm under the circumstances crumbled, leaving him struggling to catch his breath. His gaze became distorted, sounds of those around him growing further away and the cold stone of the floor beneath him seeming to rise up, greeting him harshly. A tightening feeling wrapped around his chest, as though someone had shot binds from their wand to wrap around and begin to steal the air from his lungs. There were only echoes that he could hear of those he had come into Azkaban with, the rapid sound of his heartbeat distracting him from them. A tight grip upon both of his shoulders went unnoticed as Teddy drew into himself, struggling against the invisible bonds that were curled around his chest and wrapping themselves around his throat to halt breath. His body shook, disrupting the hand upon his shoulder.  
  
“𝑻𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒚.”  
  
The voice, calm, barely matched the tight grip upon the shaking shoulders of the Metamorphmagus. His hair was pulsing, erratic with dark colours, as the voice continued to call to him. Slowly, terror released him from its grip and let him slump against the cold wall behind him, feeling the chill from the stones find him even underneath the layers of his clothing. Teddy soon came to gaze upon the Auror knelt in front of him, noting out of the corner of his eye that others had cast Lumos. Pity was etched into the face of those surrounding him, crawling under Teddy’s skin. There was little that he truly detested, but pity seemed to top the list. He 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 how others looked at him when they connected the dots from him to his parents. It was that thought alone that had Teddy pushing out of the grasp of the Auror in front of him and joining the others with barely a nod, indicating that they should carry on through the walls of Azkaban. The hair upon the back of his neck pricked at his skin, standing upon end when he heard the quiet movements inside the cell. Head held high – Teddy didn’t dare look upon the man that had murdered Remus Lupin. He didn’t need to. They soon passed Dolohov’s cell, and Teddy was left trying to piece together enough of his thoughts to form something coherent. His grandmother had been right to fear him arriving at Azkaban – and she had been 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 to.  
  
  
“You’ll take shifts here, rotations from the mainland . . . “  
  
  
How he was going to be able to take shifts at Azkaban, Teddy would never be certain. It had been the one fear he carried through training, never voicing it to Andromeda, and certainly not to Harry.  
One trembling hand dug deep into the pocket of his jacket, numbed fingertips brushing against the leather to retrieve the small photograph that he carried with him wherever he went. There was enough light surrounding him that he could see a sight that had always settled him.  
  
His mother. His father.  
  
𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐘 seemed easy after one singular glance at the dated photograph. Teddy was well aware of the few trainees that still hovered beside him - seemingly ready to catch him if he fell into a second panic attack - watching the way he gazed at the small polaroid. His parents had fought for this, had they not? A world safe from those like the Lestranges, like Dolohov?  
  
And so —

  
  
𝑨𝑺 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑯𝑬.


End file.
